Finding Hale's
by GoSpeedsterOrGoHome
Summary: Coffee is more than just a fix for Stiles. Coffee is a lifestyle, coffee is one of his last connections to his mother. So, finding a place to replace Starbucks is a must. Part of the Best When Hot universe


**Author's Note: **This is the first time I've ever written for Teen Wolf, so go easy on me. This is an All-human AU that will have more works in it eventually. It is posted on my blog, so if you see it on Tumblr, I probably posted it there. Provided I can get on AO3, it will be there as well.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Teen Wolf. Jeff Davis and everyone seem to be doing a pretty good job.

* * *

_**Finding Hale's**_

Searching for a coffeehouse that made a decent cup without charging out the butt was not at all how Scott had expected his Saturday with Stiles to go.

Stiles who, after questioning his father as to why the _only _Starbucks in town had burned down and if there were any injuries, had almost immediately begun to mourn and lament that his java-scented haven was gone, burned to the ground. The drumming, jittery boy sat in the passenger seat now, staring intently out the window in search of a new, _decent_ place to get his fix.

Not that it could legitimately be called such. Stiles did **not** have a usual. He, in fact, made it his personal job to try every item on the menu at least once in addition to off-menu items, and he rarely repeated a drink more than once in a span of three months. Stiles, unlike Scott, just didn't **do **plain coffee.

"Dullness begets dullness, Scott," he remembered hearing for the nth time. "And I'm in no hurry to be dull."

So, Scott drank the slightly too-watery coffee that Sheriff Stilinski made in the morning, and that was why finding a place to replace Stiles' daily Starbucks was a necessary evil. Not that Scott was against spending a Saturday with Stiles. After all, they'd been best friends since they were children, and recently, their parents had tried a brief stint of dating before deciding it was easier and less awkward for everyone if they just platonically co-parented their two trouble-finding boys. Finding Scott and Stiles together on a Saturday was in no way unusual.

"Dude!" Stiles exclaims suddenly as Scott pulls his Toyota around the corner. The sudden flurry of flailing limbs and fumbling hands tugging on his arm has Scott slamming on the breaks,narrowly avoiding a collision with a parked car on the newly visible block. Stiles, all twitches, ticks, and unbelievable energy, was pointing at a shop in an average-sized space that Scott honestly can't say that he's ever seen.

The sign reads a simple _Hale's, _made with wood and a few neon lights and finished in a deep, almost rustic red. There's a man sitting in a seat by the window, with dark, slicked-back hair and a laptop before him. The girl behind the counter appears to be blonde, making a cup of coffee. In the window hangs a sign, probably saying the traditional **Come On In, We're OPEN!** and welcoming customers. Or not. It seemed very dead inside.

"How long has that been there?" Stiles asks. The words leave his mouth so fast that they slur together, though not entirely unintelligible.

Scott shrugs, pulling forward and backing into parallel parking. "Never heard of it. Lydia may have mentioned something."

It was widely known that Lydia was the towns coffee snob. Somewhere new in town, she was the first to know. But, of course, she would have never told Scott or Stiles. She never even gave Stiles the time of day. Despite that bit of knowledge, the Stilinski boy perks up at the mention of his long-time crush, only momentarily distracted by the thought of her.

The boy in the driver's seat is highly amused. Well, equal parts amused and unnaturally terrified. The ball of energy that is his best friend is off like a rocket as soon as Scott shifts the car into park. It's a race to catch up with Stiles before he enters the shop and makes a fool of himself by tripping and breaking his head open or something.

Tugging open the door and letting Stiles go first, Scott immediately notices how the slight tremors in Stiles' hands seem to slow, and he's able to stop shuffling his weight from foot to foot at just the smell of fresh coffee. Stiles takes a moment to himself, eyeing the different merchandise that the small café offered, and taking a look at the walls. There were a few posters, a wall that was obviously converted into a giant blackboard, and a large portion of one of the walls was taken up by a corkboard as well. There are a few pictures on it, interspersed among a few very excellent, vibrant drawings. One such photo is of a smiling brunette with her arms wrapped around a handsome, brooding, blue-eyed man. The amused half-smile is a look that Scott himself hasn't seen in a few weeks, and he immediately begins to pray that this place is the place, because Starbucks had been more than just a cup of coffee to Stiles.

"Hi, I'm Erica. Welcome to Hale's Coffeehouse," greets the decidedly chipper blonde from behind the counter. She is indeed a blonde, with a nice smile, and though she's got awful circles around her eyes, she looks happy, and like she genuinely enjoys her job.

"I'll have a twenty-ounce white chocolate mocha with extra caramel sauce, and he'll have a twenty-ounce raspberry mocha with whipped cream."

Scott isn't even concerned that Stiles rattles off one of his usuals as well as the drink he'd been planning to order before he got the news about Starbucks. He's just hoping this place is good enough to pass Stiles' system.

Because, contrary to popular belief, Starbucks had only slightly been an addiction for Stiles, and Scott is hoping that Hale's is the catharsis he needs. Because Scott can still remember all the times when they were little and Miriam Stilinski would pick Stiles and Scott up from school, stop for coffee, and get the boys something small, caffeine-free, and different every time as a treat. Before she died, she'd let them finally get caffeine, and after she died…

"That'll be $7.50. Anything else before I get a name?" Asks the blonde as she takes the $10 Stiles fishes out of his wallet.

"Stiles on the white chocolate, Scott on the raspberry, and pleasant surprises are always welcome," Stiles replies absently once he gets his change, wandering over to take in some of the other pictures on the board. Around a piece of paper with a damask border labeled **The Team **in big, blocky letters sit two pictures. One of a darker skinned boy with a bright smile using Erica as a leaning post due to their height difference, and another of Erica and a boy with curly hair, clad in matching staff sweaters and filling a large group's order. The brightness of the photos was a contrast from how empty the board itself was, and Scott idly wondered if they would fill it more. He watches Stiles, who seems a little lost inside himself until Erica pipes up with a "Hey, Stiles. Try this on for size."

Taking an artfully-decorated cardboard sleeve, Stiles meticulously places his cup inside it before adding a straw and taking a hesitant sip.

The barely noticeable tremors in his hands stop, and Scott makes a rather concerned face at the utterly wrecked noise that leaves his friend's lips, if only because he had no clue that people actually made those noises outside of porn. Erica smiles in a picture-perfect expression of triumph.

"What'd you do?" Stiles asks her.

"And give away my secrets?" She grins, handing Scott his coffee. "If it keeps you two coming back, it goes to the grave with me."

With that, she begins to wipe down the counter and clean her station. Scott is a little awed that she shut Stiles down like that, but as soon as he takes a sip of his own drink, he realizes that he doesn't particularly want to know what she did, and he understands why the coffee had drawn such a disturbing noise from his friend.

The previously twitchy boy, now very calm, concedes quite easily and shrugs as he takes a stool at the bar.

"Coffee is supposed to be an adventure anyway," Stiles says around his horribly mangled straw. In that moment, Scott realizes that people really aren't lying when they say that he's so much like Miriam was in her life. "I'll be back."

Scott makes a noise of agreement and Stiles amends with a grin, "_**We'll**_ be back."

The man that they'd seen in the window chooses to remind them of his presence then by clearing his throat and offering them each a slip of paper. An advertisement, Scott realizes, done in the same art style as the art on the board, coffee cups, and sleeves.

"These are our hours of operation," he says cordially. "Do try to keep your X-rated coffee fetish noises to a minimum when there are other customers, won't you?"

Stiles promptly chokes, recovering to sputter, "Y-yes, sir."

Clearly pleased with the response, he turns his smug gaze to Erica, handing her a coffee mug. "Refill, dear. Derek and my publisher are being slave drivers today."

"Sure thing, Peter," she replies, fetching the coffee for him. "That's Peter Hale, permanent presence around these parts. He's made of Mentos, Diet Coke, and sass."

"Don't forget the good fashion sense," Peter interjects from his laptop.

"Wait, as in award-winning author Peter Hale?" Stiles stammers.

"You'll get used to him," Erica promises with a nod as she ducks under the counter and into the shop, taking Peter his coffee.

Stiles exchanges a look with Scott, grabbing a new straw to replace his mutilated one. "I think we've found our permanent spot."

All Scott can do is smile as Stiles grabs the sleeve of Erica's sweater as she passes to return to her post, asking, "How are your dirty chai lattes?"

The blonde smirks, brushing off her hand before ducking back under the counter. "Absolutely filthy," she replies with a wink.

"Perfect. Another 20 ounces, please."

Scott laughs and twists his half-empty cup in his hand, looking at the art on it.

Yeah. This is definitely their new place.

"Hey, Erica," he calls. "Can you make that two?"

"Coming right up, guys," she replies with an easygoing smile.

The bell over the door jingles, making everyone look up. The curly-haired boy in the picture stands there, looking disheveled and like he ran the entire way.

"Am I late?" he asks.

"Not at all," Peter replies, dryly sarcastic.

"Good morning to you too, Uncle Peter," he mutters, grabbing his apron from the hook on the wall as he ducks under the counter, pulling it over his Hale's hoodie as he straightens. Erica catches a Sharpie that flies out of his pocket, setting it on the counter.

"Good morning, Isaac."

"Morning, Erica," he replies, breezing past her and into the back room.

"What's a guy have to do around here to get one of those sweaters?" Stiles mutters absently.

"Join their super secret boy band, plus Erica," Peter chimes in.

Erica rolls her eyes, shaking her head and shaking off Peter's words, handing a cup over to Stiles.

Stiles grins.


End file.
